


Baby Don't Hurt Me

by DisasterLesbean



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Eve Did Stab Villanelle, F/F, My Own Take of S2, Regret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15325083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterLesbean/pseuds/DisasterLesbean
Summary: She wishes for so many things and is left with nothing. Nothing but regret and maybes.





	Baby Don't Hurt Me

She wakes up thrashing and screaming, her blood soaked hands desperately grasping at the sheets. Only after long moments of panic does it register she’s in her bed, in the dark, alone. No Niko there to calm her down, and no Villanelle. Her divorce was already signed, filed, and official. She wishes she could say it was him she desired. It would be the reasonable thing to wish for, to miss the husband she had shared her bed with for so long. Instead as her body calms down she wishes it was her. Her killer. 

Even now, months after the last time she’d seen Villanelle, she could still picture her perfectly. The shine in her hair, the wicked curve of her grin, the perfect mayhem she produces, the way her face twists when she’s betrayed. Sometimes she swears she can still hear her teasing, her confessions. She hadn’t talked with her as much as she wishes she did considering the lengths her pursuit took her to. She regrets this. She wishes they had talked more. She wishes she had the answers to all the things she wondered about the woman. She even wishes they had never crossed paths. That she could have lived her routine life married to Niko and working for MI5. She wishes for so many things and is left with nothing. Nothing but regret and maybes.

Sliding out of her bed she heads over to her bathroom. Her hands shake as she raises them to wash the nonexistent blood off. She remembers the after vividly, after she had stabbed Villanelle. She remembers the shots flying by her, the desperation that flooded her to stop the woman’s bleeding. She remembers telling the woman frantically “I got you!” as if she ever had her. As if she would ever have her again. 

After Villanelle had fled she had tried washing the blood off her hands but it wouldn’t wash off. It had dried to her skin as she had sat there numbly trying to reorganize her mind, tried desperately to make sense of that which made no sense. 

The attempt to kill Villanelle had made so much sense. She had killed Bill. She had ruined Eve’s life and didn’t even have the grace to be bothered. She had to kill her. She had promised to take what Villanelle cared for away and she knew without a doubt Villanelle only cared for herself. When she drove the knife deep into her gut, she did it with no hesitation. She had planned to the entire time.

She needed to avenge Bill, she needed the woman to pay for all she had done, she needed to honor her promise, but most of all she wanted to wipe away the smug smirk as she taunted Eve. 

“You can’t.” She said so sure to her. She thought she knew Eve more than Eve did. Maybe she did. She couldn’t actually kill her after all. Not after Villanelle’s pained whiny groans that she forced out as the knife found its home. Not after the bitter but resolute “I really liked you.”. She couldn't let her die. She could only break everything they had. Villanelle’s eyes were locked with her during their conversation, a connection thick with so many unspoken words. A connection born through attraction and coaxed along with blood and obsession.

Now, months later, she could admit it was attraction. Bill had noticed it, commented on it. “I knew it!”. He’s hassled her, even Elena and Kenny had made comments. She’d waved them away because of course she wasn’t seriously attracted to the assassin. Soft hands caressing her face and “I mean I masturbate about you a lot.” had shattered any hope of keeping those feeling subdued. 

Looking in the mirror her face was pale, she looked drained. It had been a long few months. Months of agonizing over Villanelle and the state of her life. As soon as she pulled herself together and scraped off the sticky blood, she knew the other woman would be after her. Nadia and Anna were both dead and the woman shows no sign of caring. She knew the moment she stabbed Villanelle she severed their connection, the moment she let her leave alive she signed her own death certificate. She had a habit of cleaning house.

Her own thoughts were only confirmed when the first body showed up. 

“Eve…” Kenny’s voice came across the phone more worried than he had any right sounding.

“What’s wrong?” She had asked, having to bite her tongue at the onslaught of questions that wanted to escape. Had he found her? Is she okay? Did she kill her?

“Eve, I don’t know how to tell you this.” Kenny told her uncomfortably. “Check your email.” So she did. It was crime scene photographs. A woman was murdered and dumped in a river. It was a frequently visited river and made for a poor hiding spot, whoever did it was an amateur at best or a crime of passion she thought to herself. Then she notices exactly why Kenny had sent it to her. It was the second time she had faced this note. Attached to the woman was a note that simply read ‘Sorry Baby’. 

At the time she had been wrecked. Bombarded by so many different emotions all battling for center stage. Anger. Anger that this innocent woman was brutally murder by Villanelle to prove a point, to send a message. Disgust. Overwhelming disgust at Villanelle’s casual dismissal of life. Curiosity. Why had she chosen this woman? Eve had checked over the photos again trying to understand when she noticed it. The woman’s hair was a perfect match for her own, for Anna’s. Relief. Relief that she hadn’t killed her killer, it was so overpowering she had to cover her mouth with her hand and hope Kenny wouldn’t hear anything. She hadn’t killed her. She should have, she should have, but she didn’t.

“I’m worried, I showed my mother these and she wants you in protective custody.” Kenny’s voice crackled over the line. She didn’t want protective custody. She knew no matter what if Villanelle wanted to reach her, she would. She wanted her to. She wanted Villanelle to stroll through her door with her devil may care smile and prove how undead she truly is.

“It won’t make a difference.” Eve tells him instead. It wouldn’t, even he most know this.

“Elena called, she’s worried about you. You basically disappeared.” Kenny tried again. Of course she disappeared. She’s dynamite. Unstable and just waiting to take out everyone in her life. She didn’t want Elena caught in the crossfire between her and her killer. 

“I’m fine, I’ll call you later I’m about to go to lunch.” Eve lied, eager to get him off the phone.

“Oh, alright.” He awkwardly rushed out before hanging up.

After that despite her best intentions for him, they remained in contact. He would help her by telling her Villanelle’s movements as best as they could tell. Dead women with her features continued popping up, no others had a note. She didn’t need one, she understood perfectly. She was the other woman’s prey and she sought to frighten her. She was telling her ‘this will be you’. It was a rather clear message. 

After a month of no progress on locating Villanelle, she had changed tracks. The Twelve. She needed the resolution of finding them. She had no job with MI5 but she still had to solve it, she had to find them. It was demanded of her. She was a hunter just as Villanelle was, only her targets didn’t end in death. She simply needed to know, needed to find them, needed to stand victorious. 

It was slow going without the resources she once had. This is where Kenny proved invaluable. Despite his mother’s wishes, and his own firing, he was still brilliant. He leaked her information she knew was dangerous to but she soaked it up regardless. He was the one to tell her the first time it happened.

“She found one of The Twelve.” He told her with awe and terror.

“How do you know?” Eve asked rubbing her face. She had no idea the assassin was seeking out The Twelve. She had thought the woman’s focus was toying with her, killing her.

“A very rich prime minister found dead from a chandelier falling onto his head and a one carved into his chest. Once I did digging into his past I noticed large sums of money being moved to offshore accounts.” Kenny explained her.

“That doesn’t mean it was her.” Eve said patiently, having to bite her tongue at him getting her excited.

“The accounts are registered to a Konstantin. He was her handler, it makes sense that he was the one to pay her. She killed the first of The Twelve and she wanted them all to know it.” Kenny continued irritably, maybe she hadn’t hid her exasperation as well as she had hope.

“Christ.” Eve muttered.

“I know.” He agreed.

“Why would she kill them? She works for them?” Eve asks, already considering why she would have broken off from her employers.

“Why does anyone quit? Everyone wants to kill their bosses, she just has the ability to actually do so.” Kenny added.

“Thanks Kenny, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She told her, sure to ply him with incentive to keep helping her. 

If Villanelle was after The Twelve then it made sense why she was still alive. She had other priorities, she was focused on eliminating The Twelve before coming after her. While she was busy she didn’t want Eve to forget her, what she had done, so she killed the women resembling her in some way. 

She wondered how Villanelle would murder her. Quick or slow, with her own hands or at a distance. She only hopes Villanelle waits, taunts her, before she ends her life. She hopes she lauds Eve failure in her face, tells her she has no chance of escape. It would give her the opportunity she so desires. The chance to tell the other woman how much she regrets what she did. That she was sorry. That she had to, after all the assassin had done to her she had to drive the knife into her stomach. That she promised never to do so again, that she would never hurt her again. That would die before she hurt her again. She would, she knows. She’ll die at Villanelle’s hands. She needs the woman to understand though. To hear her. She needs to find her. 

It has led her to this early morning. The same she keeps living over and over. Nightmares of Villanelle’s blood and pained words. Waking to her own screams and sobs and regret. Months of fruitless searching. She needed to find the woman but she couldn’t be found. Two more bodies had shown up with numbers carved into them. She was making her way through The Twelve with a frightening speed while Kenny and her couldn’t even identify a single one. 

She had headed towards the shower intending to wash off the layer of sweat that coating her body. She felt useless. She was at a loss when she needed something. She needed a win. She needed the identity of one of The Twelve. She needed a lead on Villanelle. She needed something, anything, to go her way. 

She couldn’t risk involving Elena. Carolyn had severed their relationship at the airport. She hadn’t even heard from Niko, sweet caring Niko, since the divorce. He was smart that way. He could smell the odor of death that hung over Eve, the danger that shrouded her obsession, and had bailed to try and save himself. He was a smart man. She often forgot this. Her own view of him distorted by years of domesticity. He knew the fate that awaited her, he knew how she was and that she would never let it go. He chose to live without her rather than die with her. 

This left her alone. Isolated, just as she imagines Villanelle had hoped. The only difference being she had even pushed Villanelle away. As always, under the hot waves of water, she is hit with regret. She wonders, if she hadn’t stabbed the woman, would she still feel regret. She thinks she would have, she has to believe she would have. She had been so certain in her actions. So sure as the knife slid through the other woman’s skin. How could she have lived with herself if she didn’t at least try? She doesn’t think she could have. Now she knows. She can’t kill the other woman. Despite all she has done, she can’t kill her. 

She knows, the next time she sees Villanelle it will remain the same. She won’t be able to kill the woman. It’s unfortunate she doubts the sentiment will be returned. With a pile of bodies resembling her, all with the same dark promise, she knows her fate. If only she was as smart as Niko was. If only she could have ran, stopped her pursuit.

She finishes her shower and she walks out in her towel to find clothes when it hits her. She freezes in place with a sense of terror and relief. Desire and fear. The room is saturated in a familiar yet alien scent. The few times she had met Villanelle, the scent had clouded her senses. It had made everything bleary and suggestive. It coated every memory she had of the woman.

She whipped her head around trying to find the woman, she was here. She had been in this room moments ago, might even still be here. Her perfumed lingered tugging at Eve’s heart, pulling her body in so many different directions. She searched the room trying to find the assassin. She expected the woman to pop out with no small amount of dramatics, to drive a knife into her heart. To carve her name there forever. 

After a quick search all she had found was an open window. More games. She was riling her up, threatening her with no words. The message was once again clear. She can always reach Eve. She was only alive because that is what she wished. She wanted to yell, to scream, to order the woman back here. She wanted to touch her, to run her finger over the scarred tissue she had caused, to feel the lip that had been split. A ringing phone interrupted her thoughts, her hopes. Checking the caller ID she saw it was Kenny. Likely with another update, maybe she had left a message and he was calling to warn her.

“Kenny.” Eve said into the phone. She stood in the middle of her room still wrapped in a towel, dripping on the floor and wrapped in Villanelle’s scent. She didn’t want to move, leave the only thing she had been left.

“Eve, there’s something I need to tell you.”


End file.
